As I have previously mentioned, Tiny J (2 years) is crazy about the moon. Like, she won’t sleep in the car anymore if we drive at night because she’s too busy updating us about whether or not she can see the moon. The exchange below was on loop for 2.5 hours on a recent drive home from my sister’s house.

“I see the moon, Daddy!”

[pause]

“Mama, the moon is in my window! I can see it!”

[pause, wail]

“I CAN’T SEE THE MOON!”

It has been a lot of fun finding moon books to enjoy together. There must be other moon-crazy children out there, so for them, and their parents, here is a roundup of our favourites.

Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown, illustrated by Clement Hurd (board book). Let’s just get straight to the elephant in the room. Regardless of any issues you may have with the child’s bedroom in this book (and there are many), there is still a little bit of magic lining the quiet that hangs in the air every time someone reads “Goodnight stars. Goodnight air. Goodnight noises everywhere” and closes this book. Even if it’s the seventh time that night.

Moongame by Frank Asch (picture book). The illustrations may be simple and the palette may seem a little muted to modern audiences, but this story of a bear playing hide-and-seek with the moon is still a very appealing read.

Moon is Sad by Guido van Genechten (board book). It’s simple, it’s sweet, it has a unique structure, and it ends with a wee mouse giving the moon a kiss. Now my kids kiss the moon goodnight. So, a keeper.

I Took the Moon for a Walk by Carolyn Curtis and Alison Jay (board book). I’ve talked about this book before, but with its poetic writing and sense of wonder, it deserves a further mention. I keep waiting for my sister to ask for this loaner back, but hoping she doesn’t.

Papa, Please Get the Moon for Me by Eric Carle (board book). Eric Carle, famed for his famished larva, brings his striking collaged artwork to a lovely story of a dedicated father who wants to bring the moon down for his daughter to play with. An excellent Father’s Day gift if you’re thinking (way) ahead.

I’ll See You in the Morning by Mike Jolley and Mique Moriuchi (board book). Full disclosure: this book isn’t strictly about the moon, but it makes the cut for two reasons: (1) there are enough pictures of the moon to meet Tiny J’s stringent bedtime moon-image quota and (2) it’s such a sweet book that I would shoehorn it onto just about any best-of list. Tiny J likes to say the lines over and over to herself, so sometimes after she’s supposed to be sleeping I’ll hear the refrain drift out from behind her closed door: Dream your dreams of moonbeams. Let the night become your friend. The twinkling stars will keep you safe till morning comes again. One of our all-time favourites.

So, here’s what I need to know: are other kids crazy about the moon or is it just mine?

The sun set, the moon rose…
and Maggie helped Clement button his favorite pajamas — the ones with the blue and white stripes.

The doorbell rings as Maggie is helping her bunny friend Clement get ready for bed. Surprise! It’s Clement’s friends Jean and Alan Alexander, clad in nightwear and ready for some pyjama party fun.

When we first read Thank You and Good Night, I recognized the style of the illustrations, but it took me a while to connect the book to the comic strip Mutts because the sweet simplicity of the words and illustrations in this bedtime tale seem about as far from a the funny pages as you can get.

The adventures of Clement, Jean, and Alan Alexander are not in themselves remarkable:

Alan taught the chicken dance.

Clement won the funny-face contest.

The three friends played hide-and-seek, again and again.

But the uncomplicated joy they take from their time together and in the care of Maggie adds to the charm and comfort of a bedtime story that hits all the right notes. After Maggie reads them their favourite bedtime stories (stories about a majestic elephant, / a brave bear, / and a quiet bunny) they list what they are thankful for, ending with

Bedtime stories,old and new,read with love,to me,by you.A long, long list of that and this,ending with a good-night kiss.

The final image shows Maggie, sweetly sleeping with her three stuffie friends.

Nothing’s been going right for Goat since Unicorn moved to town. Goat bikes to school; Unicorn flies. Goat shows off his magic tricks; Unicorn turns stuff into gold. Goat bakes marshmallow squares “that almost came out right”; Unicorn makes it rain cupcakes.

Goat sulks, full of resentment for this flashy newcomer and his magical capabilities, when Unicorn comes over to investigate his goat cheese pizza. Turns out poor Unicorn can only eat glitter and rainbows (“Darn my sensitive stomach!”). Maybe being a unicorn is not all it’s cracked up to be — and maybe Goat and Unicorn can find a way to be friends.

This book is a giggler, that’s for sure. Some of the humour flies a bit over young kids’ heads — I loved Goat’s fantasy of a Goat/Unicorn crime-fighting duo: “Taste my cloven justice! You’ve been unicorned!” but none of the six or eight kids I’ve read this to seem to catch the old-school superhero references — but I have no problem with a book that tosses the occasional humour bone to the beleaguered parental reader (thanks!) and there’s plenty in this story to keep kids of all ages laughing. The sketchy, irreverent illustrations are a spot-on match for the cheeky text and there’s not a child alive who can’t relate to the idea of being upstaged by a flashier friend. A great jumping-off point for a chat about jealousy, friendship, and how everyone is different, or a silly read that will have you and your kiddo tittering. Your pick.

Just behind an ordinary house filled with too little fun, Ernest D. had decided today would be the day that he’d explore the depths of his pond.

Children always want to know things.

“What’s in that box?”

“What are you eating?”

“What’s under the surface of that pond?”

The trouble with the rushed and over-busy way we live right now is that instead of celebrating curiosity, we have created a world where curiosity is perceived as annoying, where we tell children “I don’t know, get in the car” and “We’ll look later” when they ask us “What’s that?” “What’s in there?” “How does that work?” We don’t have time to sit down with them, to wonder with them, to say, “I don’t know what’s in that pond; why don’t we find out together?”

Well, Ernest D. decides to find out on his own.

First he tries a stick, a fishing line, and a stone, but nothing hits the bottom of his pond. So he gathers his supplies, stretches three times, and dives . . .

. . . down between the fishes and the frogs, past the squid and sharks and shapeless things, into his pond forever deep.

I won’t reveal to you the wonders Ernest D. finds in his pond, nor the strange and astounding world he discovers on the other side. But I will tell you that when Ernest D. returns, nothing is as it was when he’d left.

His house seemed a little less small.

And his town looked a little less ordinary . . . Beyond every street and silent corner was a place unexplored.

“Exceptional,” said Ernest D.

[You can read a wonderful interview with Joseph Kuefler, including some preliminary sketches of the book, over at Design of the Picture book.]

One day
when Hannah woke up,
she was surprised to find
that it was still dark.

I often wonder if my kids realize that the world doesn’t disappear while they’re sleeping. I wonder if they know that once they’re asleep Tall Dude and I have whole other experiences without them (granted, those experiences are frequently limited to Netflix, some wine, and this crack-popcorn my friend Lindsay introduced to us, but I feel like my kids would want in on that if they knew it was happening).

In Hannah’s Night, a little girl wakes up even later than Netflix-and-wine-o’clock, in the wee hours when her parents and her sister are still sleeping and Hannah and her cat Shiro are the only ones awake. Their discovery of the thrilling, silent nighttime world is told through Sakai’s gentle, understated text and textured acrylic-and-oil-pencil illustrations in a palette of deep blues and dark greys.

With no one to tell her what to do, Hannah gives Shiro some milk, helps herself to some cherries without asking, and through a window looks at the moon and discovers “the prettiest dove she’d ever seen.” She also helps herself to some of her sister’s toys, but as the sun rises, Hannah begins to yawn, snuggles up on the edge of her sister’s bed, and falls fast asleep. Sakai brings the sweet wonder of Hannah’s view and the simple magic of the night to life in this lovely bedtime tale.

Children’s book publishing is a kind of vast ocean, filled with an enormous variety of books: some wonderful, some terrible, and a huge number just kind of meh.

This makes finding outstanding books for your kids a challenging process (which is where we come in), but it also means that every once in a while you stumble on an absolutely lovely gem of a book by serendipity.

Tiny J (now two years old) loves the moon. As soon as the sun sets, she’s craning her little neck at the sky, searching for that glowing orb, and the whole street will hear her joy if she finds it (or her sadness if the moon is hiding behind the clouds — this kid really feels her emotions). She loves the moon so much that for her second birthday party, we had a moon theme. Which turned out to be really easy because all you have to do is cut out moons and stars from Bristol board and stick them to the walls. (We went all out and made moon-shaped cookies, too.)

While we were visiting my sister’s family over the holidays, my sister, familiar with Tiny J’s passion for the moon, pulled out a moon-themed book from their shelves to read, and both Tiny J and I were just entranced by it.

I took the moon for a walk last night.It followed behind like a still summer kite, Though there wasn’t a string or a tail in sight,when I took the moon for a walk.

We tiptoed through grass where the night crawlers creep,
when the rust-bellied robins have all gone to sleep,And the Moon called the dew so the grass seemed to weep,when I took the Moon for a walk.

Lyrical and enchanting, this is just the loveliest bedtime book. It has become a staple in Tiny J’s bedtime rotation, so I hope my sister isn’t hoping to get her copy back anytime soon.

[If you’d like an easy art activity to go along with this book, there’s one over at I Heart Crafty Things.]

This begins You Are Not Small, with a very big furry creature telling a much smaller furry creature exactly what he (she? it?) thinks about her size. “I am not small,” replies the little guy (gal?). “You are big.” The big critter introduces the little critter to its friends (“They are just like me. You are small.”) and the little critter brings its friends into the mix (“They are just like me. You are big.”) and they duke it out for a while with much shouting (“Big!” “Small!”) until a giant creature stomps into their midst with a BOOM and tiny creatures parachute in from the sky, and everyone peacefully resolves that size is relative after all and the creatures all wander off to grab something to eat, ending with one of the teeny-tinies telling the giant, “You are hairy.”

Tiny J has recently been saying “I can’t, I’m too little” a lot, which tells me that we — Tall Dude, her big sister, and I —are saying that to her too much. I got this book for Tiny J as a Christmas present to try to convince her that size is relative — you know, though she be but small, she is mighty (and she is mighty).

I don’t know whether the message is getting across, but I do know that when the giant creature BOOMS into the middle of the scene, it sets both of my kids off into peals of giggles, and that’s good enough for me. Tiny J hasn’t said “I can’t, I’m too little” in a few weeks, so maybe we’re getting there.

Ellie the elephant is enjoying her bath, accompanied by her rubber ducky, when she is joined by an uninvited visitor: a bright green crocodile splashes in to join her. Then a flamingo turns up. And then…a tiger! At last, when it seems the bath cannot possibly fit another creature, a mouse joins the party. What’s a poor elephant to do?

Little fans of Press Here, Tap the Magic Tree, and other interactive picture books will enjoy this simple, sweet picture book with its bright collaged images and its invitation to the reader to tilt the book this way and that to make waves for Ellie to ride and (every kiddo’s favourite part — or at least my kids’) to shout, “Get out, Crocodile!” The book features lovely attention to detail, from the spot gloss on the water to give it some sheen to the droplets on the last page. Get Out of My Bath! is simple but definitely a winner. And best of all, it’s suitable for kids of different age groups — Little E (four) and Tiny J (just turned two) have been loving reading this one before bed for the past week. If you’re walking past our house around seven, you’re pretty much guaranteed to hear a very loud “Get out, Crocodile!”

Marla Frazee’s illustrations always catch my eye when I see them. I’ve already talked about The Seven Silly Eaters and Everywhere Babies, two of my favourite Frazee-illustrated books, so perhaps I should move on to other artists, but she chooses the best books to illustrate. And also, she has the best name. Frankly, I wish my name was Marla Frazee. And not only because that would make me a two-time Caldecott medalist.

All the World is another book-that’s-really-a-poem. And, not unlike When I Was Born, it’s about life. But this book takes a broader perspective.

Body, shoulder, arm, hand
A moat to dig, a shell to keep
All the world is wide and deep.

Simple but profound ideas are brought to life in Scanlon’s tidy rhyming couplets and Frazee’s exuberant illustrations: a day at the seashore is rained out (Slip, trip, stumble, fall / Tip the bucket, spill it all / Better luck another day / All the world goes round this way) and we are reminded that some days are good, and some days are not so good. Three children clamber into the branches of a massive tree, a young sapling in their red wagon ready to plant: All the world is old and new. Characters recur throughout the pages, widening the focus from one family all families, all people, all part of the world.

Everything you hear, smell, see
All the world is everything
Everything is you and me.
Hope and peace and love and trust
All the world is all of us.

A poem for everyone to enjoy. Is it weird that I want to buy children’s books and give them to grown-ups too? This is one I would love to share with my older friends as well as the younger crowd.

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About

I am a freelance book editor and kids' book aficionado doing my best to bring the best children's literature to kids and the people who read to them. I live with Tall Dude, Little E (4.5), and Tiny J (2).